Hello My Name is Harry
by elizks
Summary: Harry Potter, Boy Who Lived, just wanted to be Harry. Left to abusive relatives for the summer following his fifth year his life spirals out of control as he falls into depression post D of M fiasco. Who will save him? Dumbledore- he put him there, the Weasleys- surely not... will it be Petunia Dursley- maybe, Remus Lupin- hmm, Severus Snape- possibly, or will they all be too late?
1. Arrival to Privet Drive

WARNINGS: This story will contain abuse, self-harm, suicide ideation, and Weasley and Dumbledore bashing. I know it is cliche, but I hope to bring some twists and turns to the plot along the way. All characters belong to JK Rowling.

The train to King's Cross Station was taken in silence and Harry couldn't have been more thankful. At first Ron and Hermione had tried to engage him in conversation, Ron blathering on about quidditch and Hermione trying to get him to talk about Sirius. Couldn't they just understand that he wanted to be left alone? He just wanted to clear his mind from the complete chaos that it was left in following the Department of Mysteries fiasco. He laughed mentally, finally understanding what Snape was talking about all last year. Just clear you mind Harry! Merlin, if only it were so easy…

Staring out the window and watching as the farmland and rolling grassy hills streaked by with London getting closer and closer, all he could think about was Sirius' face as he fell through the veil. Harry couldn't see past the complete look of surprise that passed over his face the moment he realized he was going to fall through. He knew it was his fault and yet it seemed so sudden, like a blink of the eye and Sirius would be there, waiting for him at King's Cross to take him to Grimmauld Place. But that wasn't reality, no, Harry chastised himself, no, _instead_ he had gotten his own godfather killed and with his death his last hope to a normal life. Instead of a warm hug at platform 9 3/4 he would be meeting the cold hard beady eyes of Uncle Vernon. He shivered in his seat. Hermione must have noticed because she was giving him the look. The look she had been giving him since she was released from the hospital wing. This look spoke volumes saying, "I know you are not okay and you should really just talk to someone Harry, it's not good to keep it all in," in her all knowing, I'm smarter than you voice. Sometimes Harry really wondered what would have happened to him if he had just let that damn sorting hat sort him into Slytherin like it wanted to. Really, what could be worse than where he was now- no family, superficial friends that looked down on him or were really just there for his fame, a stupid prophesy that only taught him that he should never have placed so much trust in Dumbledore, and a summer promising to be as painful as all those previous. No nothing could have been worse than now…

As the train pulled into to the station he could see a gang of redheads waiting on the platform. He really didn't want to deal with Molly Weasley right now. He could already picture the pity her eyes would hold and the suffocating hug he was sure to get. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew she meant well, but he really wasn't part of their family, was he? I mean they had seen the bars on the window and the cat flap in the door for food…. but still they didn't try to help him more, did they? No, they did not and while they may have warned the Dursleys that was not nearly enough. It was actually opposite in what he needed because it just wound Vernon up and he would definitely be preventing the "welcome home gift" he had received last year from their interference.

With this thought in mind Harry quickly excited the train, pushing past Ron, Hermione, Neville and Luna to get to Uncle Vernon before the order had a chance.

"Harry! Harry! Wait up mate! Why are you running?" Ron yelled after him just as he stepped foot on the platform.

"Sorry Ron gotta run, you know how the Dursleys don't like to wait too long! I'll write as soon as I can!" Harry sidestepped a Weasley, he wasn't sure which, as he kept his head facing straight and not making eye contact with anyone. He managed to make it to Uncle Vernon before the order caught up.

"I'm ready to go Uncle Vernon, sorry for making you wait." Harry said softly, eyes on the ground. He figured if he played his cards right he would just be sent to his room with no food.

"That's right boy you should be sorry, making us stand around with all these freaks like we're one of 'm. It's not right I tell you. Well get walking don't jus' stand there."

Harry heard a couple order members calling out for him but he just kept walking to the car park, not pausing once and trying to blend into the crowd. He knew he may get a letter from Dumbledore about his irresponsible behavior, but in this moment he didn't give two knuts about what the almighty Dumbledore had to say about him. Dumbledore was the one who left him with the Dursleys, Dumbledore purposefully kept the prophesy from him, Dumbledore made him participate in the triwizard tournament, and Dumbledore wouldn't teach him occlumency or at least have the decency to tell him he thought Voldemort could enter his mind the way he had, planting fake visions. There would be no thought to Dumbledore now, not when he was just trying to set his summer up so he could survive the Dursleys.

At the car Uncle Vernon huffed in acknowledgement of his existence and opened the boot so he could stash his trunk. Of course there was no help, and with no magic allowed to cast a feather-light charm, Harry struggled to get it in without scratching Uncle Vernon's precious car. At last he was buckled up with Hedwig hooting softly from her cage next to him in the backseat. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were rattling on in the front about some neighbor's kid and how their perfect Dudley should stay away from him this summer. It was rumored the kid sold drugs and robbed the local stores. Harry wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all as those are the rumors they perpetuated about him to the neighbors year after year. Eventually they pulled into the driveway of Number 4 Privet Drive in Little Whinging. Aunt Petunia got out of the car and without a backwards glance went to unlock the door to the house. Uncle Vernon opened the boot again but stepped to the side waiting for him. Harry did not like this move, not at all. Why would Vernon wait for him when he never did before?

With a slight tremble in his arms Harry got his trunk out of the car and dragged it towards the door with one hand, the other carrying Hedwig's cage and Uncle Vernon trailing closely behind him. Moody's "constant vigilance" flashed across his mind as he mentally prepared for what was coming, because he knew without a doubt something was. Just as he stepped foot across the threshold a sweaty, warm, meaty hand clamped around the scruff of his neck and threw him forward. As he tumbled to the ground he tried his best to not drop Hedwig as well.

"Listen here you good for nothing freak, you will do whatever we say while you are at home this summer and accept any punishments headed your way for whenever you don't- got it?!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon." Harry whispered, eyes on the ground.

"Now I don't want you sending any of those letters to those freaks either, or having any of those birds around. I won't have anyone threatening me in my house and you won't say a word will ya boy?!"

"No Uncle Vernon."

"That's right you jus' keep your head down and we'll have no problems. Now for punishment for that letter you had your headmaster send I'm thinking 10 whippings, how does that sound boy, fair?" Uncle Vernon sneered.

"What letter? I swear I didn't have anyone send you a letter!" Harry's mind raced frantically on the implications of Dumbledore sending a letter to the Dursleys and what it could have said as he removed his shirt.

"Don't you play games with me boy," Uncle Vernon exclaimed while sliding his belt out of his pants, "that headmaster of yours sent some letter about treating you right cause your godfather died, like we wouldn't be treating you exactly how you deserved to be treated! The nerve of those freaks questioning me! Vernon Dursley!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"No Uncle Vernon, I know you treat me how I deserve, I swear I didn't say anything!" Harry whispered, trying to hold in his tears and screams.

"Don't you lie to me boy!"

WHACK! WHACK!

"How else would anybody know about how well we treat ya if you're not spouting off about us!"

WHACK! WHACK! WHACK!

"Hmmm what you have to say about yourself, freak?"

WHACK! WHACK!

"You're right, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" Harry wheezed as the air was knocked out of him from the last blow against his back. He could feel the cooling effect of blood on his back as it was exposed to the air while it dripped into the waistband of his oversized jeans.

"That's right boy you're sorry, now tell me it won't happen again!" Dursley yelled holding his belt over Harry, poised to hit again.

"No Uncle Vernon, it won't happen again." Harry sighed, defeated. Then yelped at the sudden kick to his ribs. His glasses flew off his face as his head whipped back against the floor. He hadn't been ready for a kick he thought as he chided himself on not keeping his body taught in preparation while he was still in Uncle Vernon's sight.

"Ha ha ha! Look at the freak, can't even get up!" Dudley yelled from the door.

Picking Harry up from the ground by his hair Vernon spat in his face, "Get up off the floor boy, take your stuff up to your room and stay outta my sight until someone lets you out you hear!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon"

Harry picked his glasses up off the ground, grabbed Hedwig's cage and reached for his trunk.

"Ahh not so fast boy, where do you think you're going with that? It goes under the stairs, where you'll be next time you step outta line got it?!"

"Yes Uncle Vernon."

And with one last longing glance at his trunk as it was shoved into the cupboard under the stairs, his old room, Harry struggled up the stairs to his prison cell for the summer. All the way hating himself more and more for his part in killing the last of his hope left in the world, Sirius Black. And as he heard the last click of the last lock, in a long row of locks on the outside of his door, he saved a sliver of that hate for his headmaster and all the others in the wizarding world who had left him to this hell.


	2. Summer Begins

Attn: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

The first week back with the Dursleys was always the hardest for Harry. To him it was like flipping a switch, he had to go from normal access to food, a comfortable bed, the relative security of the castle despite DADA professors out to get him, friends, and even Quidditch to then come "home" to the Dursleys and have nothing. The Dursleys equaled starvation, no real shelter, beatings, chores, and loneliness. To him the loneliness was by far the worst. All he heard all summer was, freak this, and boy that. It was a wonder he even learnt his name growing up here he thought bitterly, as he wrapped his ribs with an old shirt of Dudley's that he had torn into strips.

He was on day 5 of his "adjustment week" as he commonly referred to it. S far it seemed this summer Uncle Vernon was favoring kicks to the ribs he mused sourly. Last summer it had been blows to the stomach and before that whippings to the back. His breaths were short as he struggled to ignore the pain as reached to wrap his upper ribs. They were most certainly broken and he feared a punctured lung if he inhaled too deeply. So far this summer had been normal with Uncle Vernon and Dudley, but he could see something was up with his aunt. She had been avoiding him lately, not even yelling unless the others were around. He didn't really understand what was going on with her except that whatever it was, her behavior was slowly starting to unravel him.

Harry sat on his flimsy mattress and started to consider his Aunt Petunia. He started to notice her behavior was off on day 2 when he was recovering from his "welcome home" whipping. He had been laying on his side favoring his ribs and back, when the distinctive repetitive knock on his door came alerting him it was his designated bathroom time. He heard the clicks of the locks as they were released and stumbled forward as soon as the door was opened. He was sure he was going to run into the wall of the hallway opposite and surely wake the whole house, but Aunt Petunia had instead caught him by the elbow. She then helped him to the bathroom although while assisting him she hadn't looked at him once and walked away as soon as he was inside the bathroom. At first that morning he had assumed she had helped so he wouldn't wake anyone, but then when his chore list came along with an apple he was more confused than ever. His only chore listed that day had been to weed the back garden. He had turned to look at her, but again she didn't acknowledge him. He had been too sore to consider it further and that evening she had been yelling at him about getting dinner served like normal.

Her odd behavior continued in the absence of Vernon and Dudley. Without a single word to him, she had assigned him the least amount of chores since he could remember. Why was he so concerned? It was the silence and unpredictability and it was driving him insane! All day, all he thought about was Sirius and his doomed occlumency lessons with Snape. He thought of nothing else, and the silence was eating him alive, allowing his thoughts to linger. Why couldn't she just shout at him as he deserved. It was like she knew that the ultimate punishment for his behavior this past year was to allow him to wallow in his guilt, letting it seep into him, and become part of him like a disease.

knock knock knock

Her quiet rapping on his door brought him back to awareness. It was his morning bathroom time, marking the beginning of another silent day. He dutifully trekked to the bathroom and turned on the shower to cold because merlin forbid he use hot water, oh no that would just be horrible he ranted to himself angrily. As he set his glasses down on the bathroom counter he paused to look at his ribs and back in the mirror. His back showed the evidence of his latest whipping, with 10 lines crisscrossing along his torso, belt holes and buckle marks clearly visible. The marks were an angry red, matching his mood perfectly. On the other hand his ribs on the right side were purple, black, and green. He could tell that one of them was misaligned and obviously broken. At least the cold water would help with his bruising he thought bitterly.

After dressing in Dudley's oversized clothes, Aunt Petunia sent him to work on breakfast and once again presented him with the short chore list of only weeding the garden. After spending his morning contemplating her odd behavior along with the complete and utter disaster of the last year his anger had peaked and he couldn't take her silence any longer.

"Aunt Petunia can I ask you question?" He asked as steadily as he could, trying vehemently to hide the anger in his voice.

"What is it Harry? You know Vernon and Dudley will be down soon." She questioned, sounding exasperated.

"Well, I was just wondering why I am only working on the garden this summer?" He asked quietly, her tone confusing him which caused him to be suddenly unsure of himself.

"Are you really questioning my authority right now? Do you want to spend the morning under your uncle's belt?" She hissed at him, eyes narrowed.

"No, no Aunt Petunia! I apologize for bringing it up!" Harry tried to backtrack, knowing it was never his place to question and his sore body already protesting at the movement as he shook his head and took a step back. His previous anger had now completely deflated as fear took its place.

"Look Harry, just take the list and be grateful that you only have to work on the garden this summer, and no more questions got it?" She responded evenly with a flat tone.

"Yes Aunt Petunia and again I apologize. I'll just head out to the garden now." Harry scrambled to plate and set the breakfast he had just finished. But before he could even turn to bring the plates to the table Aunt Petunia was there taking them from him and placing them at their appropriate settings. She then did the unthinkable and handed him a piece of toast and bacon from her own plate. He just stared at the offering as if it would jump and attack him like one of the Acromantula's from Aragog's nest in the Forbidden Forrest.

"Go on take it before Vernon and Dudley realize breakfast is ready! Hurry up boy and take it outside so you can start on the garden now!" She hissed, voice low and threatening. Harry didn't need to be told twice and disappeared with the food in hand in the blink of an eye.

Harry was squatting under the cool morning sun contemplating his conversation with his Aunt that morning. He just couldn't understand why she was acting almost decently towards him. He knew there had to be some kind of trick, that he just couldn't figure out. He had this gut feeling that he needed to figure it out soon otherwise he would be regretting it.

Petunia stood at the window facing the garden from the kitchen watching Harry work. She thought back to his questions just that morning and realized she would have to be more careful about how she treated Harry in case Vernon and Dudley caught on. This last year had been horrible for her. Last summer Vernon had treated Harry so sickeningly that she just couldn't stomach it any longer. She had always been jealous of her sister Lily. Lily got everything she wanted, including being a witch. Lily had had friends, a husband, the perfect baby, and their parents had doted on her constantly while not even giving Petunia the time of day. Then that damn wizarding war had started up and her perfect sister Lily just had to get right in the middle of it. She didn't even think that Lily knew what she was really fighting for and instead got dragged in to it by that husband of hers, Potter. Petunia couldn't stand Potter. She had met him once, the only time Lily brought him home to meet their parents, and he had been so arrogant, raising his nose at everything and everyone. She was so angry at Lily for leaving her to go to that school but also for marrying Potter, because no matter what, Petunia Evans had always loved and looked up to Lily. She knew that Lily could have done so much better than Potter. And the worst part of the whole thing was that not only was Lily murdered in the end because of Potter, but so were their parents and she blamed Lily for that. So on that dreadful day that she found Harry sitting outside her door, left in a basket in the cold of night, she just couldn't do it. She couldn't find it in herself to care for him the same way she cared for Dudley and seeing Lily reflected in those sparkling emerald eyes only perpetuated her anger.

Now, here she stood watching him weed the garden with broken ribs from the foot of her husband, suffering from his continued abuse, some 14 years later, and she regretted it. She was finally over what Lily had done and had opened her eyes to how horrible Vernon and Dudley acted towards her own nephew. Harry was her own blood and after last summer she just couldn't take it anymore. As soon as Harry had left she had confronted Vernon. She had imagined he would accept her decision like he had those many years ago when she had found Harry on their doorstep, but instead he had smacked her across the face. She had bred a house full of hate and nothing would ever be the same again. Now she couldn't even figure out how to rescue Harry, let alone herself from the situation she had put them in. So everyday since Harry had left to go to that magical school, while Vernon was gone at work, and Dudley away in school as well, she plotted. She tried to think of ways to get Harry away from this poisonous house, and even considered sending a letter to that friend Lily had always talked about, Severus Snape. But for some reason every time she sat down to start the letter, something would block her and she would just forget why and who she was writing to. She was starting to suspect that there was some kind magic preventing her from helping her and Harry. So, running out of time, she reached the decision last week, that she would give Harry as little to do as possible and sneak him as much food she could without gaining the attention of Vernon or Dudley, including Vernon's wrath.

Now, here she stood, watching Harry weed the garden, obviously favoring his broken ribs and all she could think was "I wish I could take it back." Petunia desperately wanted to take back what she had told Vernon about those magical people some 14 years ago. Instead she wished she had just accepted Harry lovingly, as an aunt should accept any nephew, because he certainly didn't deserve this. No, no one deserved this hell she had created.

NOTE: Next Chapter will focus solely on Harry, will try for twice weekly updates at least.


	3. Making a Decision

Warnings: Abuse, and suicide ideation included in this chapter. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling.

It was the beginning of the third week back at the Dursely's for the summer. Harry was laying on his wafer thin mattress staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. He was trying to clear his mind for once in his life so he could actually have a chance at sleeping. He had been plagued by nightmares all week long. They varied from the death of Cedric and Sirius to the daily beatings he was receiving from Uncle Vernon. At first he had thought he would finally escape the nightmares, as they had been suspiciously absent the first week of the summer, but boy had he been wrong. They had returned with a vengeance, seemingly out of nowhere. His only consolation thus far had been that they were not visions. He chided himself about his new found knowledge and the consequences it took him to learn it.

Harry finally knew the difference between a nightmare, a real vision, and a fake one sent from Voldemort. He had been thinking a lot this summer, especially in the garden, since apparently that would be his only chore. He found that the mindless work of weeding, tilling, planting, potting, and watering allowed him to organize his thoughts. It was during this time he had discovered that all of the implanted visions sent from Voldemort had a feeling of urgency weaved within them. The feeling felt foreign to Harry because it was not the panicked sense of urgency he would normally feel, but a calm force pushing him to explore, be curious, and feel dread and fear. Now that he knew the difference he often felt an increased sense of grief and guilt over not taking the time to learn this before the death of Sirius. He thought back to the promise he made to himself three nights ago.

_Harry had just woken up screaming from a nightmare. He had been watching Sirius fall through the veil and Bellatrix's laughter was still ringing in his ears, his screams doing nothing to drown it out. Due to his disoriented state he didn't hear the clicks of his bedroom doors, the locks being undone one by one until his Uncle was at the last one. This only gave him a minute to prepare himself for his Uncle's rage. _

_"__Freak stop your screaming this instant! I will not have you waking up the whole neighborhood with your unnaturalness!" _

_Harry curled into a ball at the top corner of his bed, trying to make himself as small as possible so as to limit the area the blows he was sure would follow his Uncle's rant would land._

_"__Boy you answer me this minute! What in the bloody hell is all this screaming about!"_

_Harry peaked up beneath his fringe, his Uncle's face was turning from red to purple and his fists were clenched at his sides. Harry promised himself right then he would not have another nightmare this summer._

_"__I'm sorry sir it was a dream I'll try not to do it again, I promise Uncle Vernon." He whispered into the silence._

_"__You're right- you won't be making any more noise tonight and do you know why boy?"_

_Harry just shook his head in the negative, too disoriented to speak. This response caused Uncle Vernon to lean in so his face was directly in front of Harry, ensuring the boy could see him and he smiled as he answered._

_"__Because you'll be unconscious before too long, no more dreaming tonight boy!"_

_Before giving Harry time for the words to penetrate into his sleep addled mind the first blow struck his side._

_Crack! It was Dudley's Smelting's stick that struck Harry against his ribs._

_Crack! Crack! Crack!_

_Repeated blows reigned down over Harry's ribs, back and legs. Anywhere Uncle Vernon could strike while Harry was curled in his protective ball he did._

_Crack! Blackness enveloped Harry as the last blow landed across his temple and sent him unconscious just as his Uncle had promised. _

Pulling his mind out of the memory, Harry focused on an image of the garden. Despite the uneasiness he felt around his Aunt Petunia's new attitude towards him, Harry was beginning to appreciate and care for the garden she had him building. He imagined in detail all of the plants, flowers, and vegetables he had been nurturing this summer. He combined shades of greens, browns, purples, blues and pinks that composed the tapestry he was weaving in his mind, adding vibrance and dimension. He found that if he focused on his garden every night before sleeping, slowly adding new detail, the amount of nightmares he experienced lessened greatly. His goal tonight was to sleep through the night with only one nightmare. As he drifted to sleep he could hear the soft hoots of Hedwig reassuring him that she was here.

Harry opened his eyes slowly, blinking any lingering sleep away. He had done it! Quickly he took inventory of his body and felt no new bruises or injuries. Wow he thought, I didn't even wake Uncle Vernon up with my screaming! His happiness was of course short lived as there was suddenly a loud pounding on his door. That isn't Aunt Petunia's knock he thought quickly. He jumped out of bed just as the door swung open showing Uncle Vernon entering his room looking enraged.

"Boy what the hell are you doing still in bed! Breakfast should already be on table!"

Oh no thought Harry, he must've slept through Aunt Petunia's knock this morning. He was having a hard time comprehending that Aunt Petunia would have left him to the mercy of Uncle Vernon. She had been almost decent towards him this summer! Why wouldn't she make sure he was up when she had every morning so far?

A slap to his face brought him back to the present.

"Boy you are acting dumber than normal! Why aren't you answering me?!"

"Uncle Vernon sorry! I just overslept! I'll get breakfast on the table right away!"

"What do you mean you _overslept_? There's no time now is there? This is your fault freak! You better not be sick- I don't want to be catching any of your freak germs!"

"I promise Uncle Vernon I'm not sick, I'll come downstairs right now and cook you breakfast!"

"Blasted all I don't have time for this." With that last muttered statement Uncle Vernon took out Dudley's Smelting's stick from behind the dresser by the door. Holding the stick with two hands he swung it like a baseball bat straight at Harry's ribs.

Harry didn't even stand a chance. He couldn't even take a breath before uncle Vernon was swinging again, this time aiming for his back. As soon as Harry doubled over onto the floor Vernon aimed a swift kick to his stomach which flipped him over onto his back. With an evil gleam in his eyes he aimed the last blow for the side of Harry's head. With the last blow the world went black once again for Harry.

What Harry didn't know was that that morning Aunt Petunia had rapped on his door as normal to wake him up on time. Upon hearing mumbling she had assumed he had woken up. Aunt Petunia had been in a hurry that morning because she had many errands to run for the family, including shopping for food. She wanted to complete her shopping before Vernon got home from work that day so she could hide extra food for Harry. Too occupied on her mission, she hadn't thought anything was out of the ordinary when she had quietly slipped out of the house before any of the men were up.

Harry slowly came to consciousness and tried to lift his head but was stopped by the sudden spinning his room was doing around him. He slowly rested his head back on the floor and once again closed his eyes. He tried to take inventory of his injuries: he could feel a cracked rib, bruised back, bruised stomach, and he had a splitting headache. Again he attempted to open his eyes, but this time kept his head still. He glanced towards the window and could see that the sun was high overhead. He assumed that it must be around noon. He was surprised Aunt Petunia hadn't come for him yet. At that thought he listened to the house and heard nothing, it was empty.

Laying on the floor in pain Harry laughed at himself for his earlier happiness. He was sure he was being punished for ever having considered feeling a sliver of happiness after the deaths of Cedric and Sirius. He knew he didn't deserve happiness. Yet here he had been, just this morning, experiencing a feeling he knew he shouldn't even attempt to wish for. Lesson learned he thought sourly, happiness, life, and Harry Potter do not go together. He was the "Chosen One" alright, he was destined for a life of desolation, living in the shadows only to be a husk of a person and used as a weapon for the wizarding world. Now he knew the truth. He would never be accepted in the muggle world because he was a freak just like the Dursleys always reminded him and he would never be accepted in the wizarding world because nobody saw him as Harry. All any witch or wizard ever saw was Harry Potter, the "Savior of the Wizarding World". Vernon had finally won. He had finally beaten the last shard of happiness and hope that Harry had mistakenly held onto.

With that last depressing thought Harry once again lifted his head, this time the room didn't spin quite so quickly, so he decided to sit up. Another mistake, he threw up instantly. The motion of throwing up caused his stomach and back both to spasm, sending Harry into painful spasms similar to the Cruciatus. Collapsing back onto his back, Harry found himself staring at his ceiling with tears in his eyes. What was he going to do? Write a letter? No, for one no one had written him this summer, not even Hermione, and also Uncle Vernon had strictly forbade it. He knew now was not the time to go against his Uncle's wishes, not when he couldn't even move. So really there was no one he could go to, well except maybe Aunt Petunia. No, he reminded himself, she's the one who put me in this position. Alone then, he thought, always alone.

Again he tried to sit up, breathing through the pain he held himself in the tripod position. He swallowed back the bile that threatened to rise from his throat as pain and anger ripped through his body. He was angry at his pain, himself, Dumbledore, Voldemort, his friends, and the Dursleys. He could feel his anger spreading through his veins like fire, threatening to consume him alive. Hanging onto to that feeling he hoisted himself up, using the edge of his bed as a leverage. Stumbling into the hallway and using the wall as support he found his way to the bathroom. He didn't even glance at the mirror, he knew he must look a mess. Gingerly he disrobed and stepped into the ice cold shower he had started for himself. After enduring the pelting water for a couple of minutes his body blissfully numbed from the cold. He let out a sigh of relief. He would show the Dursleys they couldn't keep him down, they wouldn't win. As Harry stepped out of the shower he promised himself no one would win but him. It was time for Harry to take control of his own life and the only way he could think to control it was by controlling his death. He would not die by the Dursleys hand, he would not let Voldemort kill him, and he would not die as a weapon shaped by Dumbledore for the wizarding world. He would choose how he died and when. He was taking back his life and death was the only way Harry knew how to succeed.

His promise firmly in place, Harry dressed and headed to the kitchen. On the table innocently lay his chore list as if his whole world had not somehow shifted this morning. With a clear mind he headed for the garden, crumpling the list in his hand. It was time to plan and what better a place to plan than his garden.

Note: This will be the last chapter focusing solely on the abuse, from here I am hoping to move the story forward with Harry back at Hogwarts after the next two to three chapters.


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